


Keeping Secrets

by wolfJohnMcWolf



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe, Caretaker John Watson, Caring John, Doctor John, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Injury, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Panic Attacks, Patient Sherlock, Protective Lestrade, Protective Mycroft, Sharing a Bed, Sherlock Needs A Hug, Sick Sherlock, Sickfic, mystrade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2018-12-23 12:16:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11989617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfJohnMcWolf/pseuds/wolfJohnMcWolf
Summary: Sherlock doesn't know how to leave his abusive relationship. He knows that he has to, that it will only get worse, but he can't bring himself to do it. Then he meets his new doctor, John Watson.





	1. A new doctor

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, sorry about the short chapter and the crappy summary, i'm just trying to set up the story. I should update at least once a week, maybe more. Hope you enjoy :)

The crime scene was too loud, every noise was making Sherlock's head pound. He wasn't supposed to leave the flat, but Lestrade had called with at least an eight so Sherlock had forgotten about the black eye - that he was supposed to be hiding - and left. The young detective was now regretting that decision as his headache steadily grew worse and he felt the need to throw up.  
He walked past Anderson and Donovan, who were both coming up with idiotic ideas as to how the younger man had received a black eye. He entered the room that held the dead victim and immediately started deducing the body, the quicker he solves this the quicker he can get home.   
"Blimey, what the hell happened to you?" Lestrade questioned When he saw the rather large bruise starting under the consulting detective's eye and extending along his cheekbone. "Hmm." Sherlock murmured, not taking his eyes off of the corpse on the bed.   
"Your eye, who hit you?" The DI growled protectively.  
"Oh, um, cabbie wasn't too happy when I told him his wife was having an affair."Sherlock made up still not looking at the older man. Greg didn't look like he believed the younger man and eyed him warily, it wasn't the first time he had shown up injured recently. Sherlock was too busy deducing and trying not to throw up to notice Greg staring at him.  
"It was obviously the sister." The younger said after another five minutes, trying not to flinch at the volume of his own voice. When the consulting detective finally looked up Greg was still giving him a concerned look, he was clearly not hiding his pain as well as he thought he was. "How- actually never mind, I probably wouldn't understand anyway." Greg ignored Andersons grunt of disapproval and continued talking to Sherlock, "Any idea where I can find her?"  
"She will probably be at her house, the address will be in the victim's diary." Lestrade nodded.  
"Okay, go home now and get some rest. Come by the station tomorrow to make a statement, yeah?" Sherlock nodded, glad to be dismissed so soon, he really must look miserable. He quickly left the house and walked away from the crime scene. He needed to vomit and did not want anyone from the yard to see him, they would probably fetch Lestrade and that is not something Sherlock wants to deal with right now.   
After walking for quite some time Sherlock looked up and realised he no longer knew where he was. His headache was much worse and he really was going to throw up now, he moved to the side of the path and leaned against the wall. He promptly emptied the contents of his stomach, this was apparently too much for his body, everything faded to black. He passed out so quickly he didn't even feel himself hitting the floor.   
A young woman had noticed that the Sherlock was in distress and she moved to help just as he vomited and passed out, hitting the floor, hard. She shouted for someone to call an ambulance as she moved him into the recovery position. The young woman then took his pulse, she was relieved to find one, but, it was too weak and too fast.

* * *

 

"Dr. Watson." Someone called down the corridor causing the doctor to stop and turn around. "Yes?"  
"I was wondering if you could help me with a new patient? He was brought into A&E after vomiting and passing out, he's still not conscious and I wanted to admit him." The young doctor told him, sounding worried. He smiled at her, she was new to the hospital and quite shy. "Of course, where is he?"John asked.  
"He's still in A&E, could you possibly help me find him a bed?" She was nervous that she was asking too much of the doctor. "Sure, lead the way."


	2. Nervous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello :) Sorry this took so long. Please let me know what you think. I hope this isn't too slow for you all, i'm just trying to build the relationship. Also sorry for Sherlock being OOC. Hope you enjoy.

When Sherlock was moved to a ward with five other people John asked a couple of nurses to change him into a hospital gown. The doctor had found the young man's wallet in his jean pocket and went to go look up his medical record. He was disappointed to see that there was no next-of-kin on the system and he couldn't find any contact details in his wallet.

The situation just got worse when one of the nurses came and asked John to look at something. The male nurse pulled the curtain, that was around the bed, back and revealed something truly heartbreaking. The young man was only covered from the waist down, his torso was sickly thin and covered in large bruises, there were some small cuts and as John moved closer he could even see some faint scars. Dr. Watson was angry, but he forced himself to be professional and asked one of the nurses to go and get the necessary items to take care of Sherlock. John dismissed the other nurse, thinking him for his help.

While the nurse was getting the equipment John assessed the damage properly. Some of the bruises were only a few days, like the rather large one under his eye, and some were in the last stages of healing. The cuts all looked quite old and most were healing nicely, there were a few that concerned the doctor, but he would soon sort them out. Then John saw Sherlock's arms, track marks on both. He went out onto the ward and collected a kidney basin, vials for blood, and a needle. He went to collect the other necessities and paperwork from the nurses station.

He tied an elastic strip around Sherlock's bicep and tapped the crook of his arm, when John found a suitable vein he inserted the needle. Holding the needle in place with one hand and used the other to remove the elastic. When John attached the vial he stopped pinching the tube and let the blood flow, when all of the vials were full he, filled out what test he wanted done and sent them down to the lab. The doctor didn't blame Sherlock, if he was receiving this kind of abuse he would probably do the same thing. 

The nurse pushed a small trolley into the room, it held everything he needed to treat the cuts and bruises. Just as John was about to start treating his patient, the man stirred. John politely moved the folded over gown up to cover his chest, slipping his arms through the short sleeves. It didn't take as long as John had expected for Sherlock to wake up and he sat patiently on the stool next to the bed, making a note of how long the young man had been unconscious on his chart. 

"Mr. Holmes." John could see that Sherlock was shaking and wondered whether or not it was from withdrawal from the drugs. "Obviously." The younger man sighed weakly, gesturing to the empty area around him and wincing. John ignored this comment and continued. "Well, i'm Dr. Watson, I will be treating you for the duration of your stay." 

John could see and hear that Sherlock was having some trouble with his breathing. "Are you having trouble breathing, Mr. Holmes?" Sherlock hesitated but then nodded slowly. The doctor stood and walk towards the bed. "Is it painful or does it just feel constricted?" The doctor questioned moving the side rail down. 

"It hurts." Sherlock said after a few breaths.

"Okay, do you think you could sit up for me?" He asked picking up his stethoscope. The thin man tried to push himself up onto his elbows, but his arms couldn't take the weight, he collapsed back into the bed. "Are you okay?" The doctor questioned worried about the younger man's weakness.

"J'st tired." His eyes were drifting shut, as if they were illustrating what he had just said. John picked up the bed remote.   
"May I?" He asked, holding it up so the other could see.

John was trying to keep his hands in Sherlock's eye line at all times, hoping it would help him feel safe. After a nod, he raised the bed into a more vertical position. When the doctor moved forward to help the man sit up, he violently flinched away. John instantly moved back and held his hands up as if surrendering. "Sorry, I-I didn't mean t-to." John could tell that Sherlock was about to have a panic attack. He moved on instinct pushing the man's head between his knees. "Shh, it's okay. Just breath." He gently rubbed Sherlock's back waiting for him to calm down.

The doctor didn't like how he could feel every vertebrae of the mans spine and every one of his ribs. John could also feel some raised lumps of tissue that he would have to look at when his patient was more calm. "You're okay, I promise." John whispered.

Eventually Sherlock's breathing evened out and John allowed him to raise his head from between his knees. As the patient tried to lay down John put his hand on his back to stop him. "Just stay there a moment please, I promise I will be quick." He took his hand away when Sherlock nodded and pulled his stethoscope from around his neck and put the ear pieces in. He attempted to warm the metal by rubbing it, but Sherlock still shivered when it touched his back. "Sorry. Could you take a deep breath for me, please?" Sherlock obliged and drew in a deep breath. The doctor could hear a slight rattle. He instructed Sherlock to breath out, then asked him to repeat the process a few times while he moved the stethoscope around the younger man's back and chest.

While John did this very basic procedure he got to have a very brief look at Sherlock's back, what he saw horrified him. There were more bruises and the scars were worse, some only quite recently healed. They didn't look like they would be permanent, thankfully, but they still made John furious. Nobody deserved this kind of treatment.

John helped Sherlock lay down again and sat down in the chair next to the bed. "Your chart says that you passed out before the paramedics arrived, was it because of the shortness of breath?" Sherlock shook his head,   
"got dizzy an' felt sick." Sherlock slurred, the young man was obviously exhausted. John frowned, he wasn't sure how to do this next part, he didn't want to scare the young man away.   
"Does any were else hurt?" He asked, letting his eyes flick to Sherlock's covered chest. The young man's eyes dropped before John even finished the sentence.   
"Where?" John asked, bluntly." If John wasn't sure before, he was now. This behavior was typical of abuse victims.

"You already know."

"Yes, but I wanted to see what you would tell me." 

Sherlock didn't reply he just fiddled with the edge of the blanket. After a while of waiting John got up and went to the cart that the nurse had brought in for him just before the young man woke up. He wheeled the cart over next to the bed. Sherlock was watching the doctor like a hawk. John made sure that he was still keeping his hands in full view at all times and he positioned the cart to the side so that Sherlock could see everything on it.   
The doctor puts on some blue gloves, "may I move this?" He asked, gesturing to the gown that was hiding the battlefield of injuries. Sherlock nodded, keeping his face turned away so the doctor wouldn't see his tears. He gently pulled the gown down Sherlock's arms and left it half under the blanket and half on top, so the man was still covered from the waist down.  
John decided to play dumb and see what Sherlock would say. "What happened?" He was being very cautious. Sherlock shifted uncomfortably, 

"Fell" John frowned.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I fell."

John moved a stool over and picked up an antiseptic cream. When John went to put the cream on one of Sherlock's cuts he flinched before the cream even touched his skin. John carried on like he didn't notice."These all happened at different times." 

"I have a dangerous job."

"Is that how you got a black eye too."

"Yes."

"And what do you do exactly then, Mr. Holmes, if you don't mind me asking." Sherlock paused trying to figure out if the doctor was mocking him.

"I'm a consulting detective." He stated simply, like this was a common term.

"So, what do you do, do you work for the police?" Sherlock winced as John touched a particularly tender bruise. The doctor was done with the antiseptic cream and was now trying to feel for damage before he put on the bandages that would not allow him to do so. The doctor hoped that this conversation was calming him and distracting him, the young man was clearly under a lot of stress after the day's events and sitting in silence would probably be worse than some general chatter.

"Not really, they just consult me when they are out of their depth."John nodded. "Which is always." Sherlock added as an after thought. 

"So how good of 'consulting detective are you?" Sherlock smiled.

"I would show you, but it normally offends people." He looked down again and John noticed that the smile had dropped slightly. 

"Well, I promise that I will not get offended no matter what you say."  
Sherlock paused and then looked John up and down. 

"You were going to join the army like your father, but he died and your mother got sick and begged you not to go. Your brother is an alcoholic so you couldn't leave your mother with him. You decided to stay and become a doctor to help people instead. Your mother passed away before you passed your training. You aren't close to your brother, but he wants you to stay in touch and you are too proud to ask for help from an alcoholic so you don't talk much. Your brother is going through a divorce so you don't want to be a bother. You live alone, but struggle with rent so you have to pick up extra shifts here so you don't get evicted." 

Sherlock finished and smiled at Johns shocked expression. The doctor opened and closed his mouth a few times thinking of what to say, the only thing he could think of was: "That was amazing. How could you possibly know all of that?" John said with a wide grin. Sherlock just smiled again and didn't explain himself. John could see that he was exhausted so he didn't push the matter any further, just continued putting on the bandage on in awed silence.  
"Does any were else hurt?" John asked, pulling the gown back up and helping Sherlock put his arms through the sleeves. Sherlock only shook his head with his eyes shut. John felt bad, the young man clearly just wanted to sleep, but he needed x-rays of his ribs, there could be damage that the doctor couldn't see or feel.  
"I will just go and get a wheelchair to take you down for some x-rays, okay?" 

"Dull"

"What was that?" John asked stopping at the curtain.

"Wheelchair, dull, boring, pointless." The doctor smiled to himself and left to get the wheelchair.  
When John returned Sherlock was asleep. "Excuse me, Mr. Holmes." Dr. Watson shook Sherlock's shoulder gently as he tried to wake him. The young man slowly opened his eyes and blinked a few times. "Sorry, I thought it would be better to take you down now and then you can sleep over." John said with a kind smile. Sherlock nodded, but didn't move to get up.

John moved the wheelchair to the side of the bed and put the brakes on so it couldn't move away. He then pulled the blanket down, but Sherlock just looked at him with a pleading expression. He moved forward and helped pull Sherlock up into a sitting position again. Sherlock was able to swing his own legs around and off of the bed. The doctor put one of Sherlock's arms over his shoulder. John slid one of his arms around Sherlock's waist, they shuffled forward and John leans down to help Sherlock into the chair.

Sherlock hates the wheelchair, it makes him feel even more exposed, especially in the flimsy hospital gown, he's just thankful that the nurses left his boxers on. Sherlock's too skinny legs are in full view and the young man begins to feel self-conscious of his weight, he knows it is below average for a man of his age and height, but he couldn't help it, his body just didn't put weight on like other peoples did. John can tell that Sherlock doesn't like the wheelchair and by the way he is trying to pull the gown down he guesses is because he is self-conscious. John grabs a cheap NHS blanket and places it over Sherlock's legs. "It can get a bit cold out there." He said, nodding towards the corridor, with a smile.

The doctor waits with Sherlock for his x-rays. "Mr. Holmes." A young woman calls out of a door that leads to the x-ray room. John pushes Sherlock into the room, but when he turns to leave Sherlock's head whips up his arm is slightly raised, if he had enough energy he would have grabbed Johns sleeve to stop him from leaving.

The tech turns to give them some privacy, busying herself with some settings. John bends down so that only his patient can hear him. "I can't stay, but it's only for a minute." Sherlock's eyes are pleading, he may not like doctors or hospitals, but John was the kindest doctor he had ever encountered. The man didn't treat him like another junkie that belonged on the streets and he didn't pity him and his relationship. John was the perfect mix of care and authority that Sherlock needed and he made Sherlock feel safe.

"Sarah is really nice." He said gesturing to the woman waiting patiently beside the table. "It won't be long and I will be right outside, okay?" Sherlock nodded and gave John a small smile. About 15 minutes later the door opened and Sarah pushed Sherlock into the waiting room. The two doctors both gave each other a sad smile and John took the wheelchair and began pushing a very pale, tired Sherlock back up to his bed.

Sherlock is silent all the way to his bed and while John helps him in. "You can sleep now Mr. Holmes, your scans won't be ready for a while." 

"'t's Sherlock." 

"Sorry, what was that?" 

"My name, call m' Sherlock." John smiled.

"Goodnight, Sherlock."


	3. Victor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I'm sorry i take so long to update. Hope you enjoy, Let me know if its getting boring, or if there is anything you would like to happen in future chapters. Thanks for reading :)

Sherlock's results didn’t come through until the early hours of the morning and nothing looked too severe so the doctor let his patient sleep through the night. John finished some paperwork and decided that he may as well get some sleep while he had the chance. Another doctor came into the room a while later to wake John up. 

"Dr. Watson, one of your patients has a visitor, should I let them through?" The doctor questioned. John sat up and yawned. 

"Which patient?" John asked, although he already knew the answer. 

"Mr. Holmes." 

"Is the visitor related?" 

"No, he said he is Mr. Holmes' boyfriend though." John didn’t like that.

"Is he in the waiting room?" The other doctor nodded. "Okay, thank you, I will deal with this." The doctor left as soon as John said this, intimidated by Johns aggressive tone. 

Dr. Watson stretched and walked out of the staff sleeping facilities. Sherlock was still comfortably asleep when John walked into his little curtained off area of the ward he was on. He walked over to the young man and gently shook his shoulder.   
Sherlock flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulder he was about to panic at the unfamiliar smells and sounds of the hospital when he heard Johns voice: "It's okay, just me." He opened his eyes to see his doctor looking down at him and smiling slightly. The younger man gave a nod to show that he heard the doctor but otherwise didn't speak. 

"We got your results through a while ago but I didn’t want to wake you." He paused for a while but Sherlock didn't look at him so he continued. "You have three cracked ribs and very nearly overdosed." His patient gave the smallest nod imaginable. John could see that Sherlock was very uncomfortable so he didn't ask what he wanted to, yet. 

"Your chest is already considerably bandaged and I don’t think that strapping up your ribs is going to help with your breathing." Sherlock looked up and the two men made eye contact. "Are you okay, Sherlock?" He nodded quite aggressively but John could see that there were tears in his eyes. "Are you in pain?" He nodded. "Would you like something for it?" Sherlock suddenly clapped his hands against his face and let out a small whimper. 

John watched Sherlock sob into his hands unsure of what to do. He moved forward but didn't know if touching Sherlock would help. John was about to put a soothing hand on Sherlock's Shoulder when he heard the younger man whispering: I'm sorry, over and over again. 

"Sherlock, it's okay, you don't have to be sorry about anything. Trust me." He was rubbing small circles on Sherlock's back now and making reassuring noises over and over until the young man finally stopped sobbing. "Do you want to talk?" 

"I'm sorry." Was the reply. 

"Why?" John asked hoping it was something he could help with. He pulled a pack of tissues out of his pocket and handed one to Sherlock. 

"I'm wasting your time." He whispered. John was shocked, this is not what he was expecting, he didn't think that Sherlock viewed himself this way. 

"No." John said rather harshly making Sherlock flinch. "Sorry, but why on earth would you think that you are wasting my time? You deserve treatment just as much as anyone else in this hospital." 

"But..." Sherlock trailed off when he realized he shouldn't say what he was thinking. 

"What?" John urged gently. 

"I put myself here, I took the drugs when I knew I shouldn’t. It's my fault I'm here. I should live with the consequences." Sherlock whispered. John wanted to cry himself, now. He felt sick, someone had convinced Sherlock that he was nothing, that he didn’t deserve to be treated as equal to everyone else. 

"Look." John said putting his hand under Sherlocks chin so that he actually looked at him. "Just because you made a mistake doesn't mean that you don't deserve the same as other people. Do you understand that?" John questioned and waited for Sherlock to nod before he continued. "You don't have to tell me what's happening in your life, but I don't believe that you took drugs for no reason. I think you are very strong person." Sherlock's frown deepened. "I don’t think that many people would be able to cope with what you are going through." 

"I cope with drugs." Sherlock said with clear disgust in his voice. 

"It's not the best method but you are still here, still waking up every day and fighting. Most people would have given up a long time ago, Sherlock." John moved his hands up to cup Sherlocks face and wipe his tears away. They sat like that for a while, Sherlock crying and John wiping away his tears. 

"Would you like something for the pain?" Sherlocks eyes flicked down but he nodded ad John was proud of him. "Okay, I won't be long." he said with a small polite smile.   
When John left the ward the doctor that had woken him up approached him. "Sorry Dr. Watson, but the man is getting rather impatient now." He said nodding towards the waiting room. 

"Yes, sorry, I was Just dealing with Mr. Holmes." He said and walked towards the waiting room. As soon as he entered a tall man shot up and walked towards him. "Are you Sherlocks doctor?" He questioned impatiently. 

"Yes, and you are?" John was giving the taller man a very cold, unprofessional look. 

"Victor Trevor. Sherlock is MY boyfriend." The doctor didn't like how possessive Victor sounded.   
"I am currently treating Mr. Holmes so I cannot allow you to see him at this moment. When I am satisfied that my patient has received adequate medical treatment and is as comfortable as I can make him I will ask him if he wishes to see you."   
Without another word John turned and left a very angry looking man behind. John quickly grabbed everything he would need to set up the IV and returned to Sherlock. It didn't take long for John to set up the IV and administer the pain medication. When the drug reached Sherlocks system he visibly relaxed. It wasn't anything strong or addictive but it was enough to help ease some of the pain. 

John took a deep breath. "There is a man here, Victor Trevor, he said he is your boyfriend. He wants to see you." John was watching Sherlocks reaction closely. Sherlock tensed a bit but looked like he was expecting the news at some point. "I can only let him in if you want to see him." Sherlock nodded. 

"Was that a yes?" Sherlock nodded again, he was looking slightly paler that a few moments ago. "Can I tell him about your condition and why you were admitted, or would you like to do that?" 

"Can you. Please." Sherlock said, his voice was shaking and he sounded like he didn't know the correct answer to the question. 

"Okay, I will go and get him for you." The doctor said stiffly.   
Victor smiled when the doctor walked back into the waiting room. "Mr. Trevor, Sherlock was brought in last night after vomiting and passing out. We decided to admit him because he remained unconscious for longer than expected. He had trouble breathing when he first woke up and upon further examination we discovered three cracked ribs, numerous cuts and bruises over his body and a mix of cocaine and heroin in his system." Victor didn't comment so John just continued. 

"He is currently on some low-grade pain killers, nothing too strong. We are monitoring him closely, he should be able to leave either later today or tomorrow morning, provided nothing changes." John was rather proud about how professional he was while talking to Sherlocks probable abuser. 

"How has he been, he normally gets quite nervous in hospitals." Victor sounded genuinely concerned for his boyfriend, John just gritted his teeth and told the taller, strong looking man. 

"There have been a few incidents. He experienced a panic attack late last night and there were some other times where he got a bit scared, but don’t worry we have protocols for patients like that, so everything was dealt with properly." Victor nodded and continued to follow the doctor in silence. 

John held the curtain open and stood to the side allowing Victor through. He caught a glimpse of a very pale, scared looking Sherlock. There was nothing he could do he reminded himself and went to fill out some paperwork. 

* * *

"Why didn't you call?" Victor whispers aggressively. 

"I'm sorry. I-I don’t know." Sherlock is close to tears. 

"You were already in trouble for going out when I told you not to, not calling to tell me about this just makes it worse." Sherlock is crying now, he is scared and he wants someone to protect him, he wants John. 

"I have to find out where you are through your phone tracker, how do you think that makes me feel?" It was true Sherlock had known that he was in trouble so he didn’t get anyone to call Victor, hoping he could avoid his boyfriends rage for a bit longer. Now Sherlock was regretting his decision. Normally Victor was nice after Sherlock was in hospital, but this time was different, Victor hadn't put him here, directly. 

Victor would blame this on him and the drugs, there would be no apology this time. Sherlock just cried as he listened to victor list all of the things he had done wrong. 

"Going out when you weren't supposed too, not telling me where you were when you did go out, ending up here, not getting anyone to contact me and probably flirting with your doctor." 

"I wasn't." Sherlock protested to the last point. 

"Prove it. Why else wouldn't you let them call me?" Sherlock was too tired and in too much pain for this argument and just broke down crying. "I'm sorry Vic, I didn't mean any of it I Just forgot." 

"Because you can't handle the drugs, love." Victor said kindly moving forward and putting a gentle hand on Sherlocks head, stroking his hair. Sherlock nodded and apologized over and over, until he fell asleep. 

* * *

John walked back onto the ward quite a while later, not wanting to disturb Victor and Sherlock. When John walked back into Sherlocks area of the ward he found the young man asleep and victor sat watching him intently from the visitor's chair.   
John smiled politely. "Sorry, I have to do some checks and as you're not family I'm going to have to ask you to leave." The doctor was trying to be polite, he was struggling. 

Victor stood up and looked down at John. "It's okay, he won't mind me staying." Victor said placing his hand rather heavily on Sherlocks shoulder and squeezing, the younger man jerked awake looking around the room anxiously. He looked up "Victor." He said not looking any less anxious, in Johns opinion. 

"I was just telling your doctor that you won't mind me staying while he does some checks." Victor increased the pressure on Sherlocks shoulder warning him not to make another mistake.   
John sees Sherlock wince. "I-it's okay, he c-can stay, I don’t m-mind." Sherlock stutters out with a shaky voice. John couldn’t do anything else and had to obey his patients wishes. As he moved towards the bed Victor moved away but didn’t take his eyes off of John. 

John pulled Sherlocks sheet and hospital gown down and got his stethoscope out of his pocket. John placed the end on Sherlocks cut and bruised chest and requested that he breath in and out a few times. Then John helped Sherlock sit up, Victor grunted at the pair contact. The doctor repeated the same process on Sherlocks back, helped him lay back down and got a blood pressure cuff. After a few more checks, such as, oxygen levels and mobility, John saw that Sherlock was fit to be sent home. 

"well everything is fine, you have improved a lot. I think you can go home." He paused "Unless you feel there is a reason you need to stay." Sherlock looked to Victor. 

"Umm, no I'm f-fine thank you." 

"Okay, I will just go and grab the discharge papers for you." John left but heard Victors question. "What did you tell him about the cuts?" He was quite but John could hear the aggression. 

"I just said I fell." 

It didn’t take John long to get the papers and a wheelchair. He returned to an awkward silence. John and Sherlock both signed the papers and John clipped them onto Sherlocks chart for later. "Would you like me or a nurse to help you get changed?" Sherlock went to reply but Victor interrupted. "NO!" He half shouted making the younger man flinch. "I will take care of it." He continued snatching the clothes off of the bed. "Okay, I will just wait outside." 

"Sit up." Victor was impatient with Sherlock for everything that he had done wrong. It took a while but eventually the younger man got himself into a seated position. He looked at the side rail on the bed. Victor sighed and pulled it down. Sherlock swung his legs off of the edge. His boyfriend didn't give him any warning before pulling away the gown, leaving him in just his boxers on the bed. Victor knelt down and pulled on Sherlocks socks, then put his jeans on and pulled them up as much as he could. 

Victor put his arms around Sherlocks torso and helped him to stand. The younger hissed in pain. "Sorry." Victor knew just as well as Sherlock did that the doctor was listening. Once Sherlock was dressed Victor helped him into the wheelchair and went to open the curtain to let the doctor back in. 

"You will need to sign Sherlock out at the nurses' station, just for our records." 

"Of course." Victor nodded and left the room. 

"How are you feeling?" 

"I'm fine." Sherlock was struggling to adjust his hoodie into a more comfortable position. He cringed away from John when he tried to help. "Is everything okay?" John didn’t want Sherlock to leave with his boyfriend, but it wasn’t like he could do anything, Sherlock was a grown man and John couldn't interfere. 

"I-it's fine, I'm s-sorry." Sherlock hiccuped. 

"It's fine, don’t worry about it." John smiled and finished helping Sherlock with his hoodie. John pushed Sherlock out to the corridor where Victor was waiting for him. He pushed Sherlock to the exit where he got out of the wheelchair. 

The doctor watched Sherlock and Victor walk towards a waiting cab that Victor had called. The taller man was not offering his boyfriend any support as he stumbled towards the car. The doctor watched the cab drive away and sighed.


	4. Trying to help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, but it is quite a long chapter. Please let me know what you think and give me suggestions for future chapters. Thanks for reading. Enjoy :)

When Sherlock and Victor got home the older man was still angry. He had told Sherlock not to leave the flat and because he hadn't listened he ended up in hospital.

Usually after Victor hurt Sherlock he would be kind for a couple of days and not get angry at Sherlock, to show that he was sorry. It wasn't like that this time.

"I told you not to leave!" Victor shouted as soon as the door was shut.

"I'm sorry. Lestrade called with a case."

"I don't care, you didn't listen to me." Sherlock was starting to feel dizzy. The younger man stepped forwards trying to get to the sofa but victor blocked him.

"And why didn't you call me from the hospital. I was worried about you all night!" Sherlock didn't want to have this fight he just wanted to sit down.

"I Shouldn't have to track your phone to find you. I should just know. You have to tell me where you are and how long you are going to be. Do you understand?" Sherlock nodded absently, swaying on the spot. Victor finally moved out of his way and he all but collapsed onto the sofa. 

"Oh, and Sherlock if you leave when I tell you not to again, there will be consequences."

Sherlock shivered, he wished this would end, but he knew he wouldn't leave Victor if he was given the chance. He was too scared. He was scared that no one would love him and that he would be alone and a freak. He couldn't do anything right when he was on his own. Victor helped him to be normal.

The older man decided to let his boyfriend off lightly for not following the rules, only saying that he was not allowed to do any experiments for a while and victor 'asked' him not to leave the flat until he said it was okay, although Sherlock knew that Victor was telling him he was not allowed to leave the flat. If Sherlock left the flat he might not come back and Victor couldn't let that happen. 

It was a few days after Sherlocks return from the hospital when Lestrade called with a case. Victor was reading in their bedroom and Sherlock was cautious to disturb him. The younger man walked in quietly but made his presence known so he didn't make his short-tempered boyfriend jump. 

"Yes, Sherlock?" His tone was clipped and Sherlock was sure that the answer would be a no.

"Lestrade called me. Do you think I could go and help please? It won't take me long." Victor sighed, put his book down and stood up. Sherlock stepped back quickly but Victor grabbed him by the arms and held him firmly in place. "No Sherlock. You know what happened last time. I don’t think it's a good idea." Victor sounded like he actually cared and this always threw Sherlock off.

"Please, I feel fine and I could pick us up some dinner on my way back?" Sherlock didn't like begging but sometimes it worked and he was already sick of being contained in his stupid flat. 

"Just give yourself a bit more time Sherlock. At least a week, just so that I know you are okay." Sherlock nodded not looking at his boyfriend, Victor smiled and went back to his book. Sherlock walked out of the room and grabbed his phone, he sent a quick text to Lestrade: 'I can't come. I have plans, sorry – SH'

* * *

 

 

Lestrade was waiting for Sherlock, it didn’t normally take him long to get to a crime scene. He had been stood on the curb outside of the ally for about 10 minutes when he felt his phone give a small buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw that he had a text from Sherlock, Lestrade frowned at the small writing on his screen. The consulting detective said that he couldn't come to the crime scene to help because he had other plans. 

Since when did Sherlock ever have plans? And when was the last time Sherlock had ever apologized for something? Lestrade decided that he would pop round to Sherlock's flat after work to make sure everything was okay; the man hadn't been himself recently and Greg was worried about him.

It was quite late when Greg pulled up outside Sherlock's flat, he considered leaving and coming back the following day but something in his gut told him to check on the young man. He knocked loudly on the door, a few minutes later it was yanked open by a large man. "Who are you?" Lestrade questioned aggressively, he suddenly felt very protective of his young consultant. 

"I think I should be asking you that considering you knocked on my door." The larger man appeared to be very aggressive. Lestrade reminded himself of his position and tried again. 

"Sorry, I'm detective inspector Lestrade. I've just come to see Sherlock quickly. "

"I told him he couldn't help." He practically growled.

"Yes. He told me he had plans, it's just very unlike him so I thought I would see if he is okay." Greg smiled when he finished explaining himself. The taller man calmed down a bit knowing that Sherlock had listened to him, but he was still angry. Why the hell did this detective think he had the right to show up and check on Sherlock, did he not care if he was interrupting their 'plans'?

"So. Ummm....Can I talk to him?" Lestrade was weary of this man, he seemed like he had a short temper and some serious anger management issues. Greg know from experience that those traits and close proximity to Sherlock Holmes did not go well together. 

"Of course. I will go and get him. I'm Victor his boyfriend, by the way." He said with a cold smile and turned away.

Victor stormed into the bedroom to find Sherlock sat awake on the edge of the bed, he had clearly been trying to listen to the conversation him and the DI had been having at the door. 

"Give me your phone." He demanded quietly. Sherlock pulled it out from under his pillow and gently placed it in victor's palm. 

His phone did not have a passcode, he wasn't allowed one. Victor had said that he would only need a passcode if he had something to hide. Victor's phone had a passcode. 

"Why did you say you would go before you asked me?" Victors voice was rising and the flat only had thin walls. 

"I... You normally say I can go. I just thought - "

"Well don't!" He shouted. "Don't think you know what I want you to do." Sherlock nodded and looked towards the door. "We will talk about this later. Go." He pointed at the door and Sherlock left quickly. He wiped tears from his eyes before going to talk to Lestrade. 

As soon as Sherlock got to the door Greg noticed his red eyes and tear stained cheeks, one of his eyes still had the last of a bruise under it from a few days ago. He pulled Sherlock out of his flat and into a hug. "'m fine." Sherlock mumbled shakily into Greg's shoulder. 

"What's wrong?" He asked pulling the flat door shut. 

"I just said, nothing. I'm fine." Greg gave him a look to say he didn't believe the younger man and Sherlock sighed.

"Victors just upset because I forgot we had plans." 

"That doesn't mean he can make you cry, sunshine." Sherlock didn't say anything. "So, how long have you two been together?" The detective asked quietly.

"Is that really what you came here for?"

"I came to see if you were okay." The younger man frowned. "You're not usually busy and you never say sorry." Greg clarified. Sherlock didn't say anything and Greg found it scary how much the younger man had changed recently.

"You going to tell me how long you two have been a thing then?"

"'Bout six months." He mumbled.

Lestrade thought about that for a moment and realized something. Sherlock had started showing up with injuries about 3 or 4 months ago. He had heard some pretty bad excuses from the man and they were getting unbelievable now.

"You started getting hurt about 4 months ago, right?" Greg was quiet and he almost hoped that Sherlock hadn't heard the question. 

"I told you how all of those things happened." He was angry, why would Greg think that he had lied?

"Okay, I was just checking. You seem different that’s all. I'm worried about you." Sherlock looked at the floor he didn’t want to have this conversation, he had heard it all far too many times in the past few months and nobody understood his side.

Why did everybody want him to leave victor? They all said that Sherlock would be better off without him. He didn’t want to leave, well he did but he couldn't, he needed Victor in a way that he couldn’t describe. He needed the other man and he loved him despite all of the horrible things Victor did to him. 

Victor always told Sherlock that he loved him. He hurt Sherlock a lot but the younger man knew that it was his own fault. Why did he always make things worse?

"Sherlock?"

The young man looked up and realized two things:

1) Greg had called Sherlocks name a few times and was worried about the lack of response he had gotten.

2) He was breathing way to fast to be healthy.

"Shelr. It's okay, I'm sorry." He pressed his back to the wall, palms flat against it and tried to slow down his breathing. It wasn't working. His chest was too tight and the walls were closing in on him, threatening to crush him. "Not goo. Come on, sunshine. In and out slowly." Greg demonstrated by doing some slow, exaggerated breaths. "Please, for me, try." Sherlock nodded and took a slightly slower and stuttering breath. 

It took a while but eventually his breathing slowed down to its normal speed and he was no longer in danger of passing out. He felt dizzy and wobbled slightly but used the wall to keep himself up. 

"You okay, now?" Greg sounded even more worried than before and Sherlock mentally berated himself, why did he always mess things up. He nodded but it was a mistake, he felt worse and his legs completely gave out. The DI moved forwards quickly and caught Sherlock just before he hit the floor. 

"Hey, hey, it's okay I promise. I've got you." He lowered them both to the floor so that he was still holding Sherlock in a tight embrace. Greg was confused he knew that sometime people couldn't help staying in abusive relationships, because that is clearly what this was, but he never thought that Sherlock would get a partner let alone an abusive one. The thought of Sherlock staying here tonight sickened Greg.

"You can tell me anything, you know that, don't you?" 

"Yeah." Sherlock whispered.

"So. Is there anything that you want to tell me?" 

The younger man didn't get a chance to reply. The door to the flat was ripped open and Victor stepped out. "What did you do?" Victor shouted looking at Greg who stood up quickly shielding Sherlock. "I could ask you the same thing." 

The youngest of the three pushed himself up, he was leaning heavily on the wall but he needed to stop this for escalating. Both of the other men noticed Sherlocks struggle. Greg went to help but Victor pushed him aside and roughly grabbed Sherlock making him gasp in pain and shock.

"Careful." Lestrade shouted making Sherlock jump. Victor pulled Sherlock towards himself and put an arm around his waist possessively. The detective looked Sherlock in the eyes trying to show that he could help, if only the younger man would ask.  Greg would do anything to help and protect his sunshine, he hoped he knew that. 

"I'm fine Greg, just a little under the weather. I'm sure Victor will take care of me." His voice was pleading, Greg knew Sherlock wanted him to leave, he nodded his understanding. 

"Okay, sunshine, I hope you feel better soon. Call if you need anything at all okay?"

Sherlock nodded and the DI turned and left. One thing really bothered Greg though: Sherlock bloody Holmes had just used his first name, that defiantly wasn't right. As soon as Greg got in his car he pulled out his mobile and called the only person that could help.

* * *

 

 

Mycroft Holmes' personal phone rang, the phone that only 7 people in the whole world had the number to. He looked at the caller ID before answering. "Hello Gregory." He knew this wouldn't be good news. 

"Hey Mycroft. You're not busy, are you?" Greg sounded determined and Mycroft had a feeling that he didn't actually care if he was interrupting.

"No, I'm not. What do you need?"

"I was just wondering what you knew about Sherlocks' boyfriend?" Greg asked clearly impatient to be getting to the point of the call.

"I wasn't aware that he had one. I'm out of the country but if there have been any changes in Sherlock's life my surveillance team should have informed me!"

Mycroft was angry, he paid people to watch his brother and make sure he is safe, they clearly thought they could slack off since Mycroft was out of the country. Sherlock was obviously in a bad situation and that was not good news for his drug habits. Many people would be getting fired tonight.

"I think you may need to come back, like tonight if possible."

"What is happening?" He asked standing up and packing random things.

"Well he said that they have been going out for about 6 months but I only just found out about it. A few months ago, I noticed that Sherlock had an injury when he showed up at a crime scene, after that he kept showing up with more and more injuries and the explanations have been getting more unbelievable. He canceled on a case tonight so I thought I would come and check on him. I think it's bad Mycroft, Sherlock has changed so much, I'm sorry I didn't notice before." Greg was almost sobbing by the end of telling Mycroft what was going on.

"Mycroft, his boyfriend- Victor, he seems aggressive and controlling. When I was talking to Sherlock he had a panic attack when I mentioned it. I'm sorry." 

Mycroft was absolutely furious but, he pushed it down for now. Greg was mumbling about how he wanted to help but Sherlock hadn't wanted it and he was sorry, so sorry. "Gregory." Mycroft cut in rather firmly. "It's fine, I understand. I'm heading back now and should be with Sherlock by the end of the night. I will sort this out." 

"But you don't understand, Myc, I'm an officer, I should have noticed sooner."

"No one deceives like an addict, Gregory. If Sherlock didn't want you to know then it would be hard to see." Greg flinched, he hadn't even considered that Sherlock may have turned to drugs but he nodded to himself knowing that Mycroft was right. "Go home and get some sleep Gregory, I will fix it, Sherlock will be fine."

"Okay, I really am sorry Mycroft."

"You are not to blame, thank you for informing me of the problem. It is important to me that you care so much about my baby brother."

"Goodnight Mycroft."

"Goodnight Gregory."

As soon as the call ended Mycroft made another one. Anthea answered promptly.

* * *

 

 

Mycroft arrived back in the U.K. a couple of hour later. He sent a quick text to Greg to let him know he was home before getting into the waiting car. His car pulled up outside of the Diogenes club and he stormed inside going straight to his office. Anthea was waiting for him and he paused in the door way.

"Did you know?" He asked calmly.

"No sir, I asked the surveillance team periodically throughout your time away and they assured me that your brother was fine." Mycroft nodded knowing that Anthea was telling the truth, if she had known she would have told him, he just had to ask.

"Where is Sherlock now?" He already knew the answer.

"At his flat, but, it appears that his boyfriend has moved himself in."

"Yes, Gregory told me about that." Anthea raised an eyebrow at the DI's name but held her tongue, this wasn't the time. 

"I also found a few other things." Anthea held out a file, Mycroft took it but was still waiting for her to explain.

"Your brother has been to quite a few walk-in clinics and has been admitted to hospital a couple of times. I can't get all of the information about that because of privacy rights." She paused but Mycroft knew there was more so he nodded for her to continue. "I umm. I checked CCTV and your brother has purchased quite a lot of drugs over the past few months. It was mostly heroin and cocaine, it appears that he has been increasing the dose more frequently."

He took a moment to compose himself before he spoke again, this wasn't Anthea's fault, there was no need to take it out on her. She was trying to help him.

"When was the last time he was admitted?"

"8 days ago, sir. He vomited and passed out someone called for an ambulance, he was admitted and stayed the night."

"Who was the doctor?"

"John Watson, sir, there were no complications with the care. I can't access the full report but it appears the doctor suspected abuse but your brother wouldn't talk about it."

Mycroft was surprised his brother never allowed doctors to care for him without sedation and restraints. He may have to talk to this doctor. 

"Okay, thank you. I'm going to visit my brother."

Mycroft left his assistant alone in his office. He walked to his car with the file that Anthea had given him held tightly under his arm.

A while later, after Mycroft had read the file, he pulled up outside of the large block of flats, he decided to test his brother first. He sent him a text: 'I am outside, come down. Now.' It would probably be best if he didn't meet his baby brother's probable abuser just yet.

* * *

 

 

Sherlock's phone buzzed and he groaned in his head. Victor reached over Sherlock and snatched the phone before he could read the text himself. "If this is that bloody detective you're in trouble." Sherlock felt sick, Victor had already beaten him after Greg had left, Victor avoided his face instead deciding to aggravate old wounds. Sherlock appreciated that Greg cared about him, he just wished he hadn't come around to show that care. 

"Go outside. Your brother is there." The older man said shortly rolling over. 

"A-are you mad?" 

"Not at you, anymore. This one isn't your fault love, go talk to your brother."

Sherlock walked towards the door, still in his pajamas. He paused in the doorway. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Now go and talk to your brother before he comes up here."

* * *

 

 

Mycroft was starting to worry, he was about to go into Sherlock's flat when he sees the main door open. Sherlock quickly got into the black car, trying to avoid the cold. 

Mycroft wanted to cry when he saw his baby brother. Why was he letting someone do this to him? He was clearly in pain and of course Mycroft could deduce exactly what was wrong. Sherlock was so much skinnier then he used to be and Mycroft could see the ends of a black eye that obviously would have been large and painful when it happened. 

"Oh Sherlock." Mycroft sighed and Sherlock looked at his lap trying not to panic.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Don't play stupid, Sherlock, you know exactly what I mean!" Mycroft took a deep breath, reminding himself to be calm, this wasn't Sherlocks fault.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock." The younger man giggle at that. "What?" 

"You apologizing, never thought that would happen."  There wasn't much emotion in Sherlocks voice, but, Mycroft was thankful to see some of his little brother's old personality was still in there.

The car pulled away and Sherlock looked around himself panicking. "W-where are we going?" He sounded terrified and Mycroft's heart broke all over again. 

"Don't worry, little brother." He said softly, reaching over Sherlock to pull the seatbelt down over his brother. "We are just driving around a little bit." Mycroft ignored Sherlock's flinch as the seatbelt clicked in. Sherlock noticed that his brother didn't mention returning to his home at any point. 

"What do you want Mycroft?"

"I already asked: Why are you doing this?"

"There is nothing wrong with having a boyfriend, Mycroft. I shouldn't have to tell you that." There was venom in Sherlocks voice that Mycroft hadn't heard in a long time.

"I know that it is fine to have a boyfriend Sherlock, but, it is not fine for a boyfriend to hurt you."

"I'm fine." Sherlock said persistently.

"We both know that you're not, so just stop it Sherlock, it's childish!"

"Well it's none of your business."

"I want to help."

"Well I don't want your help!" Sherlock screamed. "Why does everyone think I need help!" He was crying now and he couldn't stop. "I'm happy. Just leave me alone." Mycroft moved to hold his brother, but he flinched away. Sherlock struggled away and Mycroft knew that he probably shouldn't force comfort on him but Mycroft needed comfort too. 

It didn't take long for Sherlock to stop fighting and to collapse into his big brother's arms. "I want to go home." Sherlock said after a while when he had calmed down slightly.

"Sherlock."

"Please." He took a breath. "I have to work this out for myself and you know it." Mycroft nodded.

"Would you at least see a doctor for me?" Sherlock was shaking his head before Mycroft had finished asking the question. 

"I'm fine. It's not that bad, just, home. Please." Mycroft tapped the glass that separated the two parts of the car and requested that they be taken back to Sherlocks flat.

The brothers were silent on the drive back but it wasn’t awkward. Eventually they pulled up outside of Sherlocks flats and the young man was quick to try and escape but Mycroft grabbed his arm gently, again having to ignore the flinch.

He waited until Sherlock turned to face him. The younger man had puffy red eyes and his cheeks were stained from tears, he was a mess. Mycroft reached up and slowly, so Sherlock could see what he was doing, brushed to tears away from his brothers face. 

"I'm here Sherlock. For whatever you need, don't ever be afraid to ask. I won't judge, no matter what. I promise okay?" Sherlock nodded and tried to pull away but Mycroft held slightly tighter. "Promise me Sherlock, that you will call if you need too."

"I promise." He whispered. When Mycroft let go he ran to the building.

It was early when Sherlock opened the door to the flat. He saw Victor sat at the kitchen table with his back to Sherlock. The younger man hesitantly stepped forwards, preparing for the worst. Victor wiped his face and turned around, Sherlock instantly deduced that he had been up all night from the bags under his eyes and the strong smell of coffee in the flat.

Victor stood and walked towards Sherlock, pulling him into a tight hug. "I thought he was going to take you away." Victor started crying again, holding Sherlock. 

Greg and Mycroft thought that Victor didn't love Sherlock, but it was moments like these that showed Sherlock just how much he cared about him. Sherlock could see what losing him would do to Victor and he couldn't make the man he loved feel like that, ever.

They went to bed and slept for most of the day, when they woke up Victor made them something to eat and Sherlock sat and watched him cook from the table. Victor took a couple of days off of work to be with Sherlock, it was the happiest they had both been in a very long time. 


	5. The Last Straw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long. I got busy with school and I couldn't make my mind up about how to do this chapter. But, it's here now and I hope you all like it. I'm sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes. Let me know what you think. Enjoy :)
> 
> PS. There are Graphic scenes of violence in this chapter so if you don't like that then please don't read it.

It was a week later when Lestrade called with a case. "Please Sherlock we are completely stuck on this one, there are 3 bodies and no leads." Lestrade was begging, partially because he really did need help with the case but, mostly because he wanted to see Sherlock to know that he was okay. 

"Okay, just give me a minute."

The DI could hear Sherlock knock on a door and then open it. He then heard Sherlock ask for permission to leave the flat to go to a crime scene and his blood began to boil. Why was Sherlock letting someone control him like this?

Lestrade pushed the anger from his mind when he heard some shuffling and a door shut on the other end of the line. "umm, yeah, I can be there in a few minutes." Sherlock sounded unsure of himself, something that Greg wasn't used to. He stood on the curb and waited for the consulting detective.

* * *

 

It puzzled Lestrade as to why Mycroft had left his baby brother with a monster. "Why can't you just make him leave?" He shouted when Mycroft had told him about what had happened on their car ride.

"Gregory, he told me that he needs to figure this out on his own and i agree with him."

"I don't care. Go back there and get him, take him away from that awful man."

Mycroft took a deep breath trying not to get annoyed with Lestrade, it wouldn't do to push him away at a sensitive time like this.

"You do not understand, if I just take him away he won't know why, he won't understand what's wrong with the situation."

"He knows it's wrong Mycroft, that’s why he is scared."

"Sherlock would resent me, he wouldn't listen to reason and he would just go back to that monster to upset me." Lestrade stood up pulling on his coat.

"Then I will go and get him." He turned to leave his flat but Mycroft grabbed his arm before he made it to the door. 

"Please." Mycroft begged, there were tears in his eyes and his voice broke. As upset as Greg was he knew that it was worse for Mycroft. He turned and pulled the slightly younger man into a tight hug. Mycroft sobbed into the crook of Greg's neck and the DI pulled him over to the sofa.

They didn't let go of each other when they sat down, Greg pulled Mycroft's lanky frame onto his lap and held him. They sat in an awkward silence, Mycroft's sobs being the only noise in the room. After a while Mycroft stopped crying and Greg whispered: "It's okay, I'm sorry." Mycroft shook his head.

"You didn't do anything wrong Gregory, if my surveillance team had done their job then we wouldn't be in this mess." They lapsed back into silence but this time it was familiar and comfortable.

The two men had become close since meeting, especially after Greg divorced his wife about a year ago.

"Do you want to stay?" Greg asked shakily, knowing it was a risk.

"No, no it's fine Gregory, I should get going."

"I don't mind, the guest room is all made up or..." He trailed off hoping that he hadn't misread some signals, he thought that Mycroft felt the same, but he didn't want to push him into anything.

The younger man smiled. "Well if you don't mind I suppose I could." Despite everything that was going on with Sherlock both men were extremely happy to have each other.

* * *

 

Someone coughed next to Greg jolting him out of his memory. He looked up to see Sherlock standing next to him with an almost shy expression on his face. Wow had he been thinking about that night for so long?

"Hey, Sunshine." Sherlock bushed at Greg's favorite nickname for him. Neither of the men moved just yet Sherlock didn't want to get in trouble for leading the way, something that he never used to worry about, and Greg wanted to attempt to talk to Sherlock for a bit first. This lead to an awkward silence that Lestrade broke with a cough. "So how have you been?" The younger man rolled his eyes.

"That's not why you called me here Lestrade."

"Yes, but I wanted to know that you were okay." The DI sighed.

"How's Mycroft?" Sherlock smirked, looking Greg up and down quickly.

"he's fine." How the hell did he do that, Greg wondered, he would have to asked Mycroft what gave it away.

"Do tell him to stop texting me 3 times a day. It's getting rather tedious." They both start walking towards the crime scene.

"He's worried about you Sherlock, he just wants to know that you are okay."

"I'm fine." Sherlock insisted storming over to the body.

It was a complicated case, at least an 8 and Sherlock was determined to solve it. They had moved to New Scotland yard to look over some more of the evidence from the other victims, Sherlock had made some progress but he was far from solving it. 

Sherlock pulled up the sleeve of his hoodie and looked at his watch, he groaned quietly to himself and stood up. "I have to go." He said looking sheepishly at Lestrade. The older man nodded and stood up to walk Sherlock out. 

"What's the matter freak, got plans?" Sally asked in a mocking tone and Anderson snorted behind her. 

"oi." Lestrade shouted and the two immediately stopped laughing. "I have told both of you before not to use that word, you're bloody professionals. Act like it."  He walked Sherlock out of the room but paused in the door way, "If I hear it again you will both be suspended without pay." They both gaped at him.

"But sir you can't do that-"   
"I think you'll find I can, using that word at work is abused of both of your positions." Lestrade turned and continued to walk Sherlock out of the building leaving Anderson and Donovan muttering angrily.

"You didn't have to do that." Sherlock said when they were both standing outside, he was looking at the floor.

"It's nothing I haven't done before."

It was awkward for a moment and Greg didn't know what to say to fill the silence, Luckily, he didn't have to. "I really have to go." Sherlock said practically hopping from foot to foot.

"It's fine Sunshine, go." Lestrade said to the younger man and frowned when he practically ran to get a cab.

* * *

 

Sherlock unlocked the door to his flat and walked in cautiously. "Victor?" Sherlock called out to the empty flat. Sherlock checked all of the rooms just to be sure that Victor wasn't asleep, even though it was still early. When he was sure that he wasn’t in Sherlock pulled out his phone and sent a text to his boyfriend to say that he was home and asked whether he should make dinner. 

Victor arrived home very late, he hadn't replied to Sherlock text but the younger man had made some food for Victor anyway just to be sure. He hadn't made anything for himself, Victor was always saying that he should lose some weight.

"Hey Shirly." Victor slurred clearly high. Sherlock flinched as soon as he realized how tonight was going to go. One mistake on Sherlocks part and he was going to be in a lot of pain for the next few days. "Hello Victor, how was your night?" Sherlock asked with a smile, he tried to sound happy but he couldn't tell if he had done it right. 

"It was fine." Victor dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. "Where's my food then, Shirly?"

"I-I'll just go and get it for you." Victor hummed and sat at the table, his eyes drooped but Sherlock didn't doubt that he could still hurt him.

The younger man was panicking, if he messed up everyone would know this time, there were no more lies he could say that anyone would believe. He placed the food in the microwave and got Victor a beer out of the fridge. 

He put the plate down on the table in front of his boyfriend and then got him a knife and fork. "Careful, it's hot." He warned, if Victor burnt himself then Sherlock would be blamed and that never turned out well.

Everything was going okay, Victor was agitated and was snapping at Sherlock for small things but it wasn't much worse than when he was normally high. Victor always had a short temper, but drugs made it much worse, that’s why Sherlock feared these nights so much. 

Sherlock was pretty sure that everything would have been fine if he hadn't dropped the beer bottle. It was an accident, anyone could have done it. Sherlock had been washing up Victors plate from dinner when the older man called for Sherlock to bring him another beer. 

He should have dried his hands, he knew that, he had thought about doing it. He decided that it would annoy Victor if he took too long to get the beer. It was stupid really, why would it have taken so long to dry his hands, but Sherlock was scarred and there was no logic to his thinking, he just didn't want to upset his boyfriend by keeping him waiting, after all he had probably had a hard day.

Sherlock grabbed the bottle out of the fridge with his wet hands, just as he was walking to the door it slipped, he couldn't stop it. Of course, Victor heard the smash and was in the kitchen almost instantly.

"Why would you do that, Sherlock?" Victor shouted already angry.

"I-I didn't m-mean to, it just slipped." Sherlock stuttered looking towards his phone that was resting on the worktop. If he could just send Mycroft a text, maybe his big brother could come and get him, just for the night. Until Victor wasn’t high and it was relatively safe again.

Victor noticed what Sherlock was staring at and snatched the phone, putting it in his pocket. "No one's coming to save you Sherlock, no one cares, remember."

'But they did care didn't they? That’s why they all wanted him to leave Victor, so that this wouldn't happen anymore.' Sherlock thought just before he felt the first blow on his cheek. Stupid people, why did they have to confuse him. He was happy before they all told him how wrong it was, now he was confused about everything.

"Why are you so stupid Sherlock? All I asked for was a beer, how could you mess that up?" Victor grabbed him by his hoodie and shouted in his face.

"My-my hands were wet." Sherlock tried to argue weakly.

"So why didn't you dry them?" He asked not giving Sherlock the chance to answer before he hit him in the face again. "You can't just waste things like this Sherlock." 

The younger man whimpered and Victor hit him a third time, this one in the ribs. He collapsed to the floor, almost landing in the shards of broken glass. 

"I d-didn't mean to waste it, it just slipped!" Sherlock shouted and that was another mistake, a big one. Victor kicked him in the ribs 3 times before getting down next to him and grabbing the back of his neck. 

"you're so stupid Sherly." Victors voice was vicious and he was pushing Sherlock's head down as he spoke. The younger man struggled, knowing what was coming. He couldn't get away Victor was too strong. "That's why you need me. You could never look after yourself. Just look at the mess you made here." 

Victor was now pushing Sherlock's face into the glass shards on the floor. The younger man was screaming in pain, the glass was slicing his skin, deep and the alcohol was stinging the cuts. Victor laughed and continued to puss his face down. Soon the older man grew board, let go of Sherlock's head and stood up. Sherlock instantly rolled away whimpering.

"You owe me a beer." Victor spat and kicked Sherlock in the back. He lest Sherlock alone on the kitchen floor, bleeding and crying.

* * *

 

It felt like hours later when Sherlock finally tried to move, he needed to go out. He was in immense pain and couldn't lay in a pool of blood and beer all night. He went to the cupboard and grabbed a tea towel. Sherlock cried out when he tried to put it on his still bleeding face, there were still some small shards of glass there that he was pressing in deeper. 

Sherlock had grabbed some money before leaving. The young man walked for about 20 minutes and was extremely dizzy when he got to where he needed. He knocked on the door. It was yanked open a few minutes later, the person inside clearly struggling with the lock. 

"What?" A rough looking man asked.

"Good evening Billy." Sherlock said moving the bloodied cloth away from his face.

Billy looked shocked. "S-sorry Mr. Holmes. Didn't recognize ya." He stepped aside and let Sherlock into the drug den. 

"It's fine." Sherlock wince, it was painful to move his face. "I need your help." The young man nodded and Sherlock lead the way into his favorite room. 

Sherlock passed some money to Billy in exchange for the cocaine that he would be using in a moment. "No need for that, Mr. Holmes." 

"I insist." Sherlock didn't need this money, he had plenty. Billy nodded and took the money he counted and found that Sherlock had paid 4 times what the coke was worth. 

They gave the drugs time to be fully in his system before Billy started sorting out his face. It was still painful but now he could remove himself slightly. Sherlock loved drugs they cleared his mind, they were peaceful. 

It had been Victor who had introduced Sherlock to hard drugs. About 6 months ago Victor had shown up on Sherlock's door step, high as a kite and had said that he needed to show Sherlock something. 

"It's fine I promise, just take a little bit. His first time had been with powder cocaine and it was amazing, his body felt separate from his mind. Everything slowed down and he could think without it hurting, he didn't notice everything all at once anymore. Within a month he had moved on to stronger drugs and doses and he was addicted.

It made him feel better that Victor encouraged it. Soon after Victor had started to insult Sherlock and then he hit him for the first time. Since then it had only gotten worse and they both depended on drugs more and more.

"Okay, that’s all I can do." Billy interrupted his thoughts. "I think you should go to a doctor though. They might be able to fix it up a bit better." Sherlock thought about that for a while. Maybe he could just go and see – No. Sherlock interrupted his own thoughts, it was too risky. 

Sherlock shook his head and reached out for a needle. Billy shrugged and went to the other side of the room. 

* * *

 

Mycroft was staying at Greg's flat again, they were lying in bed together, just about to fall asleep when Mycroft's phone rang. He answered before the second ring and was getting out of bed, he had thought that it would be about the international crisis he had been dealing with at work and was prepared to go into the office. 

He was disappointed that it wasn't work related, something had happened with Sherlock. He had been dreading this call and here it was.

Greg was lying in bed propped up on his elbows and staring at Mycroft. "Where is he?" Mycroft sighed. Greg's heart dropped, this was about Sherlock. He too got out of bed and started to get dressed. 

"What's happened?" Greg asked, staring at Mycroft's back. Mycroft didn't say anything but Lestrade could see his shoulders shaking, this was destroying him. Greg walked up behind Mycroft and hugged him. "We'll sort this out, okay." He nodded in reply and took a moment to compose himself before turning around. 

"My new surveillance team has informed me that Sherlock left his flat about half an hour ago and he is currently at a drugs den." Greg frowned.

"Why did it take them so long to tell you he left?" 

"Apparently he has sustained some facial injuries that made it hard to identify him."

"So, umm." Greg wasn't sure how this would be taken by Mycroft. The younger man just stared at him. "Can we take him away now." He knew exactly what Gregory meant: Is it bad enough now to go against his wishes? Mycroft just nodded.

They were out of the flat and into one of Mycroft's black cars within the next 2 minutes. Mycroft sent a list of things to Anthea that he wanted done within the next half hour. There was one thing that he wanted to do himself.

Mycroft made a phone call. The recipient picked up rather quickly. "Hello?" 

"Hello, Dr. Watson."

"Umm, yes. Who is this?" 

"My name is Mycroft Holmes, I believe you treated my brother Sherlock a few weeks ago." John sighed.

"Yeah, is he okay?" He knew it was a stupid question but he didn't have anything else to say.

"I am currently on my way to find that out. You are the only doctor that my brother has every allowed to treat him. If you look out of your window you will see a black car."

John moved over to the window and pulled the curtain aside, sure enough there was a black car parked out the front.

"Yes, it's there."

"If you get in it will take you to a private medical facility where my brother will be taken when I have collected him. You will receive a sufficient sum of money and your job will be taken care of for as long as it takes for my brother to get better."

John was holding his phone to his ear with his shoulder and tying his shoes. Mycroft could deduce this from the other end of the phone and smiled slightly to himself. The reports on this man were correct.

"Yes, yes of course I will help, but I do not want any money for it, I'm a doctor it's my job." 

"Thank you, Dr. Watson, I will see you later." The phone hung up before John could reply so he picked up what he thought he might need and headed down to the black car.

The car pulled up outside the drug den as Mycroft hung up the phone. Both men got out of the car but stood outside for a moment.

"So, what's the plan?" Greg asked.

"My agents are on the way to Sherlock's flat to make Victor Trevor disappear they will also collect all of Sherlock positions and move them to my apartment. Doctor Watson, the man who treated Sherlock in hospital 2 weeks ago is going to be waiting at the private medical facility where we will take Sherlock once we get him out of there." Mycroft said nodding towards the run-down building. 

"Wait Sherlock was in hospital?" Greg asked in shock and then saw Mycroft's face. "Sorry, not the time."

"I will explain when I know Sherlock is safe." They both walked towards the door. 

They didn't knock, instead Greg decided to kick the door down. It didn't take long to find the young man. The sight of him made them both feel sick. His face was covered in bruises and lots of long deep cuts. He was clearly High but thankfully not passed out. Mycroft just prayed that he hadn't overdosed. 

Mycroft ran forward and dropped painfully to his knees. Sherlock's eyes rolled lazily over to him brother and he frowned. Mycroft gently put one arm under his brother's thin shoulders and the other under his knees and picked him up princess style. Greg helped to steady Mycroft and then moved around to take Sherlocks pulse, it was weak and slow but it was still there.

Mycroft got into the back of the car still holding his baby brother, he didn't bother with a seatbelt his driver knew to go slow. Sherlocks eyes landed on Greg and the older man gave a weak smile, "Hey, Sunshine." Sherlock tried to smile back before looking up at his brother. 

"I w's g'ing t' text." Sherlock was struggling to talk through the pain and drugs but Mycroft could understand. "He t'ok my 'hone." Mycroft nodded.

"It's okay, don't worry about it. I'm here now." Mycroft was crying but Sherlock couldn't tell, his eyes were slipping shut. Greg noticed both things and decided that in this moment Sherlock was more important. "Sunshine, stay awake yeah?" Sherlock struggled to pull his eyes open but nodded. The DI put a comforting hand on Mycroft's Shoulder, the younger man barely noticed, he was too busy staring at his baby brothers ruined face.

It wouldn’t take long to get to the medical facility and both men were praying that Sherlock would make it.


	6. Unstable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, sorry this took so long, i lost the motivation to write for a while but i'm back now. I hope you all enjoy this chapter :)

They are about two minutes away from the medical facility when Sherlock's eyes slide shut. Mycroft, who had been watching his brother closely, noticed immediately. "Sherlock!" The young man shouted shaking his baby brother. Greg moved over and placed two fingers on Sherlock's neck to check for a pulse. "He's fine Mycroft." The older man said firmly, trying to convince himself and Mycroft that everything would be okay.

The young man stayed unconscious for the rest of the car ride, giving the two older men a chance to talk. "Are you okay?" Greg asked, concerned that Mycroft was about to panic. "Mycroft?" Greg called after a moment of silence. He finally looked up and Greg saw his tear stained cheeks. The older man reached up with both hands and gently cupped Mycroft's face, wiping the tars away with his thumbs.

"He'll be fine." 

"You don't know that." Mycroft's voice was weak and he was angry. Angry with himself for leaving Sherlock with that man, angry at Greg for not making him see sense and angry at the man who had done this to his baby brother.

"You can't beat yourself up about this."

"Why not?" Mycroft pulled his face away from Greg. "I left him there when I knew that it would get worse. I knew that this would happen and I didn't help!" He was shouting but he didn't care, this shouldn’t have happened!

Just as the younger of the two finished shouting the car stopped. They were at the private hospital and the waiting doctors wasted no time opening the car door and pulling Sherlock away from his brother.  Mycroft panicked at the loss of contact between him and Sherlock. "No." He called reaching out to pull his brother back. The doctors ignored him and carried on loading Sherlock onto a stretcher to move him into the hospital. 

Greg quickly got out of the car and ran around to the other door that Mycroft was half hanging out of. He kneeled down in front of the other man and pulled Mycroft's hands into his own. "It's fine Mycroft, they are going to help. It's okay." The younger of the two was a mess he knew it was logical to trust the doctors to do their job but he didn't want Sherlock to be on his own, even if he was unconscious. 

"He can't be on his own. I-I have to stay with him." Greg nodded, he understood why Mycroft needed to be with his brother. He stopped rubbing Mycroft's hands and put an arm around his waist instead, helping him up. They moved quickly to follow the doctors into the hospital. When they were inside the doors they both spotted Anthea standing off to the side, they both went over to her instantly to see what was happening.

"Where is doctor Watson, I haven't seen him yet?" Mycroft asked in a shaky voice.

"He is waiting in an operating room, I informed him of what I knew and he thought it would be best to get your brother there as soon as possible." He nodded firmly and moved over to the small window that allowed him to see his brother. 

The doctors were all moving around frantically, trying to get Sherlock ready for surgery and checking his vitals. Someone had placed a bulky oxygen mask over Sherlock's nose and mouth, clumps of torn gauze were under the edge of the mask preventing it from irritating any of his cuts. 

As soon as the doctors were ready they wheeled Sherlock through to another room that Mycroft could not see into. Greg and Anthea were stood back watching Mycroft's reaction to the situation, neither wanted to intrude but they both wanted to know that he was handling everything well. Just as they were about to go over to him a doctor walked out of the room.

"Mr. Holmes." They shook hands politely. The doctor didn’t hesitate in giving Mycroft the information he desperately needed on his brother. 

"Obviously your brother had many wounds to his face, unfortunately some of them will scar permanently. As well as this he also has what appears to be some broken ribs. There are cigarette burns to his lower back that are infected and he may have internal bleeding, we will confirm this in surgery." The doctor took a breath and continued. "Because this is a case of abuse we need consent to do other tests such as x-rays and MRI's so that we can see the full extent of the damage."

"Do whatever you have to." The doctor nodded again and then looked down awkwardly.

"Umm, I'm sorry to be the one to ask you but, do you think there is any need to test for sexual assault?" Mycroft was shocked, he hadn't thought about this, what if that monster had hurt his baby brother in more ways than one?

"I think that may be necessary, I do not know the full extent of what happened between my brother and his abuser."

"Thank you, all of the tests will be ordered as soon as your brother is out of surgery and his acting doctor deems then necessary. He is still quite unstable." Mycroft nodded now, he wanted to break down, but a hospital was not the place to do it and he would stay with Sherlock however long he needed to.

* * *

 

 

After a few more words were exchanged between the doctor and Mycroft the doctor walked back the way he came. Greg didn't waste any time and moved strait over to his 'boyfriend'? The two men hadn't actually spoken about the nature of their relationship. Everything they did together made Greg feel like he and Mycroft were together but, nothing had been made official. 

Greg walked up to Mycroft, who was staring into the room where his brother had been only moments before. "How's it looking for him?" He whispered into the younger man's ear, and that was it, Mycroft was gone. He all but collapsed into Greg, who stumbled under the new and unexpected weight, and cried. While Mycroft sobbed into his shoulder Greg wrapped his arms around him and rubbed his back soothingly.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm sure he'll be fine." Greg prayed that this was true. After a few more minutes of standing there with Mycroft in his arms Greg led them both over to the chairs to wait for news on Sherlock.

* * *

 

 

John couldn't believe his eyes when he saw Sherlock being wheeled into the operating room. There were large gashes on his face standing out prominently against his pale skin, and dark bruises on his face and bare torso. 

The doctor didn't waste any time in helping the poor young man and immediately started telling people where to be and what they should be doing. After John had started cleaning and stitching Sherlock's face another doctor walked in, in fresh scrubs. "What needs to be done?" 

"You can help clean some of the smaller cuts on his stomach and check for internal injuries." John could see that although the glass had been intended for Sherlock's face some of it had made its way down his chest and abdomen. 

John couldn't help but feel responsible for this. He is a doctor, he is trusted to care for people and yet when someone, who is clearly in danger walks in, he does not help. Thinking back to when he first met Sherlock he now realizes all of the things he could have done to help.

The doctor shakes his head, now is not the time, he has to stay focused and help now, while he still has the chance. 

* * *

 

 

Overall the surgery doesn't take too long, it was mostly just cleaning up some of the older wounds and checking for damage. John made sure that he was the only one to touch Sherlocks face. The younger man was beautiful and John would make sure that Sherlock looked as close to his old self as he could. He spent longer than necessary prepping each cut and stitching it slowly and precisely. He had temporarily held other parts closed with butterfly bandages so that he could make sure no skin would too far from its original place. The less skin that moved, the less noticeable the scars would be. 

John decided to keep Sherlock sedated for the rest of the night, he couldn't imagine how much pain the young man was in and he wanted to make Sherlock as comfortable as possible. Sherlock was still unstable but his chances were looking a lot better. He was taken down for some scans and John, of course, went down with him. It wasn't like he had any other patients to worry over.

The scans had shown what John had expected, unfortunately. The were some internal injuries but they should be able to heal on their own as long as Sherlock was able to rest. There were small fractures in his forearms and some of his ribs had been broken and left untreated. 

The doctor wanted to cry, he could have prevented this from getting any worse. There was only one thing to do now and that was to look after Sherlock as well as he could and help to give him back a normal life. 

Sherlock was intubated to help ease his breathing, a problem caused by his damaged ribs. Hopefully taking some of the strain away would allow his body to heal itself better and quicker. John dismissed all of the doctors and nurses when Sherlock was in his own room. He collapsed into a chair next to the bed and watched the monitors that told him Sherlock's vitals. 

John needed a moment to himself after the stressful night he had had. Sherlock was showing improvement already but that didn't mean he was all clear. There was still a lot of recovering to do, all John had to focus on right now was making Sherlock stable so that he could begin his recovery. 

* * *

 

 

It was hours later when Doctor Watson came out to talk to Mycroft. The elder brother stood immediately and walked towards the doctor as quick as he could. "Mr. Holmes, he's okay." John knew what was important and dragging it out would do no good to the brother. Mycroft visibly sagged with this information and the doctor feared that he would pass out.

"Why don't we take a seat while I explain?" John said already ushering Mycroft to the seat he had just stood from. 

"So, your brother is fine at this point in time, however he is not stable. We are keeping him sedated for now to help with the recovery and he has been intubated to ease some of the stress his body is feeling." 

Mycroft nodded slowly. "There's still a chance that he might not make it?" He asked almost shyly. 

"Unfortunately, that is a possibility, however at this point it is not very likely." He paused giving the poor relative some time to process this. "I really do not think that this is something for you to worry about. There would have to be something to push him over now, like an allergic reaction to medication."   


"That is not likely is it? He's never had one before."

"No, it's not likely but it is a possibility." John knew form experience not to get peoples hopes up. 

"You can go and see him soon, I just wanted to know about some things." Mycroft was relieved, he needed to see his baby brother, he wouldn't be able to believe that Sherlock was okay until he saw it for himself.

"Okay, what do you need to know?" 

"Well Sherlock had cocaine in his system, and is likely to go through withdrawal. It can be an option to keep him sedated until the drug is out of his system." 

"No." Mycroft snapped rather harshly. He seemed to realize this what he saw Johns shocked expression. "I apologize doctor, I need him to wake up. I need to know that he is okay."

John gave him a tight smile. "I understand, Mr. Holmes, it's just more comfortable for the patient that way."   


"Yes, I just have to talk to him." John nodded completely understanding, to be honest he was hoping that Mycroft would want his brother awake so that he could ask his patient some questions himself.

"Would you like your brother to be able to administer his own pain medication, the machine is capped obviously so he couldn't overdose." 

"I don't think that would be wise." Mycroft wasn't actually sure of that one, "What do you think?"

"Well it can be good for the patient as they know when they are in pain, however it's not always recommended with people that use recreational drugs." 

Mycroft had been able to tell that Sherlock was using when he came back into the country to try and take Sherlock away from Victor, he hadn't said anything then, not wanting to upset his brother further.

"I think for now you should administer it, until I know more about Sherlock's circumstances for using."

John nodded and wrote that down, he noticed that Mycroft was getting more impatient and he kept glancing in the direction he thought Sherlock was.

"That's it for now, Mr. Holmes, I can get the rest of the information from you later." Both men stood up and John led the way to Sherlock. On the way John's phone pinged and he opened an email, Mycroft saw relief fill the doctors face. He stopped just outside a door, though the window Mycroft could see Sherlock. 

"One more thing Mr. Holmes." John said stepping slightly in the way of the door, but not blocking the view. 

"Yes."

"I just got the results from the sexual assault kit, as far as we can tell there was no sign of sexual abuse." Mycroft could feel the tears in his eyes, he was relieved that Sherlock hadn't had to go through that. 

"Thank you." 

John stepped aside and allowed Mycroft to enter the dim room that held his baby brother.

Sherlock looked so small and fragile, asleep in the bed. Mycroft was already crying and there was no point in pretending that he wasn't going to carry on. Before he walked over to the bed to sit with his brother Mycroft pulled out his Phone and sent a quick text to Anthea: 

'Keep Victor Trevor isolated until further notice, I wish to visit him.'

Mycroft then sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair beside the bed, took his brothers hand in his own and waited. 

* * *

 

 

Mycroft drifted off into not quite sleep, but somewhere close while he was waiting for Sherlock to wake up. He was disturbed by a twitching in his hand, only it wasn't his hand twitching, it was Sherlock's. The older of the two sat up strait and pulled the chair in as close as he could. It was about another twenty minutes before Sherlock's eyes actually blinked open and stared, unfocused, at the room.

Mycroft stood slowly not wanting to startle his brother. He placed his free hand on top of Sherlocks soft curls and the younger man looked at him confused. "Hey." He smiled down at his brother. Sherlock tried to smile back but winced when he ended up moving his face. Mycroft winced in sympathy for him, he couldn't imagine what level of pain Sherlock was in.

It was a good thing the Holmes brothers could read people so well because Mycroft was able to answer Sherlock's question without the younger man even having to ask them. "You are in a privet hospital, Dr. Watson was brought here to treat you. My sources suggest that you respond well to him." 

Sherlock looked relieved by this news. He was in his own room and wouldn't have to worry about people judging what he must look like, and John was here, the young man couldn't explain why but this made him feel less anxious. Mycroft allowed himself a small smile when he saw that this information eased Sherlocks nerves.

Mycroft remained standing for a while just happy to be able to stroke his brother's hair soothingly, Sherlock fell back to sleep with the comfort of his big brother protecting him. Mycroft realized, as he watched Sherlock's eyes drift shut, that he probably should have got a doctor or nurse while his brother was awake, but he wasn't going to disturb how peaceful Sherlock was just so a nurse could poke and prod at him.

When Mycroft was sure that Sherlock was fast asleep he stopped stroking his hair and pulled out his phone. A few minutes later Gregory walked into the room, looking very relieved.

"How is he?" He asked looking down at the youngest man in the room.

"He just went back to sleep, he's fine." Greg had been there for the conversation with Doctor Watson but hadn't wanted to interrupt something that was so important to Mycroft so he had patiently waited until the younger man wanted him to join him.

"He woke up?" 

"Yes, he seemed to relax when I told him Doctor Watson was his doctor." Greg smiled.

"So, you finally found someone that can actually treat him." Greg moved over to Mycroft's side of the bed. He wrapped his arms around Mycroft's waist and held him.

Mycroft let go of Sherlocks hand and turned to face Greg, he put his arms around his neck and pulled the detective even closer. "He's okay." Mycroft whispered. He was crying again and Greg reached up with one hand to wipe away the tears. 

When all of the tears were gone the older man cupped Mycroft's face in his hand and pulled him in for a gentle kiss. Mycroft sighed happily, Sherlock was finally safe. After a moment the two men broke apart, Mycroft sat back in his original seat and Greg pulled a chair form the corner up next to the bed. 

Greg took Mycroft's hand in his own and they both waited, together, for Sherlock to wake up.


End file.
